


double-double (triple)

by Batik



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M, Sid/Geno/Timmy, fun with food
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-16 01:51:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11243859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batik/pseuds/Batik
Summary: Here be hockey players. And doughnuts.





	double-double (triple)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CD (thecollective)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecollective/gifts).



> I was thrilled to get you as a recipient, C_Diva! (I love your writing!) You had some amazing prompts. This treads lightly across several of them, I think, and I hope you enjoy!

**G** 1:17 p.m.  
_See anything you like?_

Sid’s phone pinged on his counter and he glanced at it just long enough to see who it was from before rinsing the soap suds off his hands and grabbing a dish towel to dry his hands.

Along with the short message, there was a picture. A close-up selfie of Geno wearing one of his goofiest grins — one of the absolutely ridiculous ones that, nonetheless, made Sid weak in the knees — and hugging a box of TimBits to his cheek.

**Sid** 1:18 p.m.  
_Several things. :-) Hurry home._

**Sid** 1:18 p.m.  
_And bring a dozen Boston Creams._

Sid didn’t wait for a response to put down his phone and turn back to the sink, quickly wiping at and rinsing a glass before setting it in the drainer to dry. Of course he had a cleaning service. But Sid wasn’t going to let dirty dishes sit for a week when he was perfectly capable of washing a plate. Plus, the mundane nature of housework was kind of nice on occasion. He was self-aware enough to realize part of the enjoyment stemmed from the daily pressure for him to be anything but mundane in his job, and part of it was just that he didn’t have to do it; like a lot of things, housework was a lot less tedious — relaxing, even — when it wasn’t mandatory.

Just past 2 o’clock and with his few lunch dishes now dried and put away, Sid was sitting at the kitchen island, sorting the mail, when he heard the garage door. A few moments later, the back door swung open and Geno stepped through, keys and a box of TimBits dangling from one hand, a flat doughnut box balanced on the upturned palm of the other. 

“Let me help you with that,” Sid said with a grin, quickly hopping up and relieving Geno of the bigger box. He placed it on the counter and flipped open the lid, grabbing a Boston Cream and inhaling about half of it in one bite.

“‘Hi, Zhenya! Miss you. How was your meeting?’” Geno laughed as he put his keys and the box of TimBits on the counter. “Hi, Sid! Meeting so boring without you. Spend whole time think I’m miss you, get Timmy’s to show. Now know you only have eyes for doughnuts.”

Sid grinned, though it was challenging to do so politely around a mouthful of doughnut.

“Yep,” he agreed, going solemn as he swallowed the last of the bite. “It’s bad. A lot of good relationships have been ripped apart by quality pastries.”

“Anything I can do to salvage our love?” Geno asked, reworking his face into something more serious as he sidled closer to Sid and wrapped a hand around his hip.

“I’m not sure,” Sid said, letting skepticism slip into his voice as he turned to face Geno, half a doughnut still in one hand. “It’s hard. You’re great and all, but Timmy has a lot to offer.”

“So sad to hear,” Geno said, his fingers slowly trailing from Sid’s hip up, across his shoulder blade and down his spine. “I’m guess I’m get stuff and go.”

Sid’s breath caught as Geno reached his waist and casually, oh, so casually, slid his hand beneath the hem of Sid’s T-shirt, insinuating his fingers under the waistband of Sid’s basketball shorts. He shuddered when the tip of Geno’s middle finger brushed gently at the cleft of Sid’s ass.

“Welllll,” Sid drawled, stretching the word as much as he could. “You’re not without your own appeal. And we do have history. It’d be a shame to throw all of that away for a box of doughnuts, no matter how good.” 

“It would,” Geno agreed, nodding thoughtfully. “Any suggestions how to fix?”

Sid wasn’t sure how Geno managed to look both serious and smug at the same time. But pair that expression with Sid’s close-up view of Geno’s clavicle through the open V of his white dress shirt and the pull of that should-be-illegal vest across Geno’s shoulders and it was all Sid could do to maintain even a momentary pretense of waning interest without just climbing every inch of his boyfriend.

Sid tilted his head and gave Geno a considering look.

“Maybe ...” he said, swirling his finger across the custard center of the half-eaten doughnut in his hand. “Maybe you just need to be more like Timmy.” 

“I try anything, Sid,” Geno said, a note of pleading seeping into his tone. “What you want I should do?”

“Hmmm,” Sid said, giving Geno a considering look before dropping his eyes to the doughnut and dipping his finger into the well of custard. “Let’s start simple.”

With that, Sid looked up from beneath his lashes and locked eyes with Geno until Geno gave him the most minute of nods. Then Sid lifted a custard-coated fingertip and slowly, carefully, swiped it along the underside of Geno’s jaw, right beneath his ear. Geno tilted his head, granting Sid access as Sid leaned up and licked.

The lick evolved into a suck into a gentle bite at the cord of muscle in Geno’s neck and Sid couldn’t help mirroring Geno’s soft moan with one of his own.

Sid licked and sucked until he was sure he had removed all of the freshly placed custard, then he pulled back and looked, his thorough gaze seeking signs of the effects of his efforts. He wasn’t disappointed, especially when Geno stuttered over his next words.

“Did?” Geno asked. “Did it work?”

“The results were, um, promising,” Sid said, oh-so-slightly grinding his hips against Geno and his breath hitching at the friction. “Let me try again.”

Sid swiped his finger across the top of the now-worse-for-wear doughnut, collecting most of the chocolate icing in the process. He then painted the chocolate across Geno’s bottom lip, massaging it in like lip balm before sticking his finger in his own mouth, raising his eyes to meet Geno’s and slowly sucking away the remaining chocolate.

Geno tightened his grip on Sid’s waist, pulling him in tighter. And if that wasn’t distracting. Sid closed his eyes, letting himself get lost in the sensation of Geno’s dick slotting into place next to his own, only a few layers of fabric between them.

Sid bit his lip, barely holding back a moan as his dick throbbed. It would have been satisfying enough to pull down their pants and jerk off together, but he had a game plan.

Opening his eyes, Sid focused his gaze on Geno’s lower lip before using the hand that wasn’t full of doughnut to pull Geno’s head down to meet him halfway. He slowly teased at Geno’s lip with the tip of his tongue, sliding it through the chocolate he had smeared there as Geno let his mouth drop open.

Sid pulled his tongue back and made a show of savoring the taste before leaning back in. He sucked Geno’s lip into his mouth and laved it clean of the chocolate before shifting into a gentle, exploratory kiss.

This time when Sid pulled back, Geno followed as if drawn by gravity before he seemed to realize the kiss had ended. To Sid, Geno looked gratifyingly wrecked, or well on the way, the chocolate on his lips replaced by a pink flush and his gaze simultaneously dazed and intent on Sid.

“Sid …,” Geno started.

Sid, struggling to maintain his air of detachment, grabbed a napkin from the stack on the kitchen island and carefully, deliberately set down the crumbled remains of the doughnut in his hand. Then he just as deliberately reached over and picked up another doughnut, taking a step back from Geno as he did.

“I think we should continue this upstairs,” he said before taking a bite and pivoting toward the staircase. As he reached the first step, he swallowed and looked over his shoulder at Geno, still a bit dazed and still standing where Sid had left him. “Bring the doughnuts.”

∞

Later, when all that was left of the Boston Creams was a box of forlorn, doughy shells on the bedside table and the rare smudge of overlooked custard or chocolate on skin, Sid and Geno lay tangled together in Sid’s bed, both exhausted and riding a bit of a sugar high.

“So, I can stay?” Geno asked, using a fingertip to repeatedly trace a the outline of a heart over Sid’s left pectoral. “I’m win back your heart from Timmy?”

“My heart is always yours, G,” Sid said sincerely, brushing a kiss against Geno’s shoulder. “Has been since I met you. … Just stick close next time we’re in Columbus.” 

Sid was gratified to feel Geno tug him a little bit closer as he groaned.

“Like Dubinsky not bad enough,” Geno said with the kind of exaggerated sigh he usually reserved for media availability days. “Now I have to watch out for Buckeye Blooms.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is what happens when I'm Googling around, trying to determine if there's a Tim Horton's anywhere within reasonable driving distance (the answer for me is a resounding "No!") and my brain helps by wondering the same about Sid. [Buckeye Blooms](https://twitter.com/timhortonsus/status/376327853421244417) — chocolate and peanut butter doughnuts — apparently are a real thing, but only in Ohio State territory. (Though I like to think Sid could put in a special request, if he really wanted!)


End file.
